


this sickness (we are lost, not wandering)

by ironwoodsfairy



Series: I'll See You On The Other Side [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Freeform, Short, Unhappy Ending, Very Painful I'm Not Joking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 10:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironwoodsfairy/pseuds/ironwoodsfairy
Summary: They’ve learned to do what their loved ones couldn’t, not here on the ground. They’ve adapted. Learned. Survived.They both know survival only matters so much. They had lives, once, of metal, black empty terror and pinprick light, the incessant hum of life support that here is replaced by screaming cicadas (or is that the trees themselves, desperate to finally rid the earth of the poison that is humanity?) but those lives are long dead and buried.





	this sickness (we are lost, not wandering)

The disease came first, months ago. It killed all but him and her. Its source is still unknown, and that scares them. Both of them. 

Being the only ones left can do that to a person.

The grounders came second, sensing their prey to finally be weakened and severely outnumbered. Today, she suggests they hide, let their enemies go around them and lose their trail. The rage in his eyes catches her off guard, but she knows that it shouldn’t. Not anymore. 

Their fights are almost petty, at least most of the time, each meaning well but wanting their own way, deeming it superior, safer than the other’s. 

It’s the desperation that gets to them. That primal fight to stay alive, dodging spears and arrows and earthly poisons. Finding shelter, wanting to build a home in this hell of root and rot and dirt, but always needing to move quickly quietly  _ run go now there’s no time they’re here dammit RUN I’LL FIND YOU JUST GO  _ -

He lashes out. She bites back. It’s a dance, it always is. 

Between them, it’s poisonous, soothed a night here and there between whimpering lips and clashing hips, sweat that seeps into the earth, taking their grief and anger and fear with it only for all three to be reborn (once more once more once more) in the morning light before it sinks deep and returns to their bones, hiding from the sun.

They’ve learned to do what their loved ones couldn’t, not here on the ground. They’ve adapted. Learned. Survived. 

They both know survival only matters so much. They had lives, once, of metal, black  _ empty  _ terror and pinprick light, the incessant hum of life support that here is replaced by screaming cicadas (or is that the trees themselves, desperate to finally rid the earth of the poison that is humanity?) but those lives are long dead and buried.

He asked once if it’s better to be buried or to be floated, to rot beneath their feet in quiet or to join the earth, finally _ finally _ as flame and ash.

She couldn’t answer, but he thinks she’d prefer flame. She is a phoenix, after all, closer to dust in the early morning when her demons are soothed only by his touch before she becomes his savior in the bright light that wakes them not long after. So it was his preference, too.

The beast that took him had seemed to come from nowhere, springing from the blood red sun where it had begun to set behind them. They’d been bathing in the stream, close to the shore, not far from their most recent campsite. He asked to be on watch first, bow and arrow in hand, knife at his thigh (right thigh right thigh always his ride side, she’s got his left). Their bullets had run out long ago. If he’d had any, he might have survived. Then again, he’d needed to have known it was there, lurking, to have stood any chance.

She heard his scream -  _ gutturalrippingterrified _ as the thing tore into his neck and shoulder. It had come from the mountains and dragged him back into the dark with it, swift as a deer and five times the size.

She shot out from the water, screaming his name. The noises he made, nearly inhuman, were enough for her to find him where the beast left him (the blood he trailed was second best), deeming him too much of a problem to deal with, retreating and waiting for him to die. 

She cradled him, head pulled to her naked lap as water dripped off her hair and onto his blood splattered face, rivers of red where his tears should have been. 

_ Please… please don’t leave me _

Her sobs were her only reply.

The infection spread fast, taking only two days. The beast killed him, but not her. It is still in hiding, and that terrifies her. Just her. 

Being the only one left can do that to a person.

The grounders came sec-

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Please don’t leave me.” - https://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/152872288096/super-sappy-lines-prompt-list


End file.
